


Little Ficcies with no place to go

by kaitlia777



Category: Body of Proof, Bones (TV), Hawaii Five-0 (2010), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-05-07 15:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14673831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlia777/pseuds/kaitlia777
Summary: A collection of Drabbles





	1. Toys Don't Have to Make Sense

"I think that piece goes here."

"No, Bones, the little picture clearly shows it here."

"But that makes no sense."

"It's a kid's toy. They don't need to make sense."

"That seems counter productive."

Special Agent Seeley Booth looked over the mess of brightly colored plastic at his friend and partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan. She had joined Parker and himself for dinner and even held her tongue during the traditional reading of Twas the Night Before Christmas when they tucked the boy into bed. The blatant absurdity of children's toys finally broke her composure and the forensic anthropologist had to express her opinions.

"It doesn't need to make sense, Bones. It just needs to be fun."

The answer seemed to confuse her. "But my gift to him last year made sense and he enjoyed it."

"I know, but sometimes the fact that things don't make sense make them more fun."

Obviously, she didn't agree with that, but sighed and fitted another piece of the toy into place. "Parker asked me if I'd be here in the morning to see him open his presents."

He smiled at her. "That'd be nice."

"Yes, I think so."

"Merry Christmas, Bones."

"Merry Christmas, Booth."


	2. Capture the Flag

"All right, for today's practice, I though we might…." Charles let his voice trail off as he took in the scene he and Erik had just walked in upon.

It was mid-afternoon on a lovely Saturday and the children and Moira were all gathered in the TV room, save for Hank who was at an electronics convention. The radio was on, but no one seemed particularly interested in the music. Raven and Moira were leaning on each other, giggling as they watched Sean blow an impressive series of smoke rings into the air.

Alex was sprawled on the couch, clutching a bottle of Jim Beam and brooding. Or perhaps not brooding, but as it was his default state, it was hard to tell without prying.

"Hi!" Sean crowed when he saw them, then asked, "Do you have any snacks?"

"I'm sure there are some in the kitchen," Charles said with a sigh. "I suppose capture the flag is out of the question now."

"Quite," Erik agreed, but was interrupted by Raven.

"NO! Oh my God, catpure the flag would be so much fun!" she burbled happily, then gave them a long look, trying to organize her thoughts. When she couldn't, she simply walked to the liquor cabinet and grabbed two bottles, handing them to Charles and Erik, demanding, "Drink first!"

That was how they wound up playing capture the flag: Team Drunk vs. Team High. No one actually won, as Team High surrendered to the munchies and Alex passed out in the garden, while Charles and Erik…did something naughty in the stables.

When Hank returned the next day, no one would tell him how the kitchen got trashed, why Alex had a dozen rose thorns in his arm or why Erik kept smirking when Charles continued to find hay in his dark hair all day.

No, actually, didn't want to know about that last one.


	3. Tougher then the Rest

~ Well it's Saturday night/ You're all dressed up in blue/ I been watching you awhile/ Maybe you been watching me too

Neither Danny nor Kono had been much luck in the romance department. Both were too willing to give their hearts to partners who would hurt them. Steve and Chin didn't understand and it became something of a tradition for the two of them to commiserate and share a drink at a local dive.

One night, after a few beers, a song came on the jukebox and Danny had grinned, pulling Kono off of her bar stool and onto the tiny always empty area that was (ostensibly) allocated for dancing. She laughed slightly, but settled into his arms as they swayed to the music, warm and safe together.

It was a nice contrast to the rest of their hectic lives, to work and family drama and heartache.

A moment of peace shared in a grungy bar. Sure, it might not have been for everyone, but it worked for them.


	4. Blind Justice:  A Partner Thing

Apparently, two detectives, one a small woman and the other blind, did not present as particularly intimidating authority figures to small cluster of hoodlums. They decided to jump the police officers instead of talking.

Since all Detectives Jim Dunbar and Karen Bettancourt wanted was some information, this was a really bad decision. The brief scuffle ended with all four teenagers face down on the concrete, handcuffed, while the detectives were merely ruffled.

Later, Karen found Jim in the locker room, attempting to clean and bandage a painful looking gash just below his left elbow.

"Ouch," she commented, noting the grim resolve with which he went about his task. He probably felt he had to take care of the little bumps and bruises himself now that Christie had left for L.A.. "What happened?"

"Caught it on the curb during the ruckus," he said. "Nothing major…what're you doing?"

She'd taken the antiseptic from his hand and was gently dabbing at the injury. "Takin' care of this," she said, not brooking any argument from him. "Gimme the big Band-Aid."

Holding up the Band-Aid, he teased, "Thanks, Mom. Gonna kiss it better?"

"Zip it," she replied, but there was affection in her tone and she felt bad when he winced as she smoothed the bandage over his injury. On a whim, she pressed a quick peck to his elbow and grand when he burst a laughing.

"Feels better already," he said and smiled in her general direction.

Slapping him on the shoulder, she replied, "Next time, just ask, okay."

"Okay."

It was a partner thing.


	5. Rough Hands, Soft Lips

"Damn," Megan Hunt muttered to herself, gripping her right hand with her left, trying to rub the feeling back into her fingers. The parasthesia was acting up again, fortunately not when she was holding a scalpel.

Looking up from his meal, Peter Dunlop regarded her with his warm, concerned gaze. "That's the third time today," he offered gently. "Not that I'm counting."

Of course he was counting. Sometimes Megan Fox or coworker - her friend- was far too observant. Also far too willing to talk about feelings, which was not one of Megan's strong suits.

Most men would rather eat broken glass than talk things out, but somehow she wound up with one who was emotionally well-adjusted and willing to discuss said feelings… or try to help her work through her own minefield of emotions.

"I know," she replied, then sighed unhappily. "It's been a long week."

It really had been.

Peter nodded, then, placing his fork down, surprised her. He reached over and took her right hand in his, strong fingers massaging her much smaller hand, coaxing increased blood flow back into the digit's and, slowly, sensation returned.

She could feel the rough calluses caused by years of handling firearms in general hard work. Peter didn't have soft hands, like a doctor or lawyer. They were broad, competent, skin a but dry, but she found she enjoyed his touch…and to allow him to continue to rub her fingers after the feeling returned.

Finally, she gripped his hand and smiled. "Much better. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he replied, then, with an impish smile, pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

That surprised her, but she had to admit it was a nice surprise.

Smiling, she asked, "What was that for?"

"Why not?" he replied easily, releasing her hand and turning back to his meal.

So far, beer had been nothing but respectful of her somewhat awkward social skills and this was no exception. It had been nice, but no pressure.

As she picked up her fork, Megan wondered if she might reconsider her snaillike approach to this relationship.

His lips had felt really wonderfully soft.


	6. Thanksgiving is, after all, a word of action... Discontinued WIP

It all began rather simply, another day, another case.

Megan and Peter exited their car, seeing Bud and Sam doing the same farther down the street. The address they were looking for, the home of a friend of Jessie Turner, their latest victim. Both duos began walking towards the house, which was almost dead center between where they parked their cars.

Before either party had gotten very far, a young man came out of the house and rushed downstairs, turning towards the detectives, then freezing.

He turned on his heel and sprinted at Megan and Peter. Clearly, the other two had more of that cop aura and having them shout "Stop! Police!" only made the suspect flee faster.

Megan was startled when Peter gave her a shove into the relative safety between two parked cars before launching himself at the man. He lowered his shoulder and hit him in the midsection, taking the suspect down hard. Briefly, Megan was reminded of the occasional glimpse she had of the football games Todd loved.

On the ground, Peter had the man, Steve Anders, pinned facedown by the time Bud and Sam arrived to cuff him. After that, the case had been closed rather quickly, as Anders broke down and confessed to killing Jessie and even told Bud where he'd hidden murder weapon.

Case closed.

At the end of the day, Megan stuck her head into Peter's office, wanting to inquire about drinks. It was the day before Thanksgiving and, since Todd had taken Lacey to see his family in in Connecticut and mother was visiting friends in the Hampton's, she was planning to spend the day doing paperwork even though she wasn't on call. Peter too had the day off, but she thought that they could have a pre-holiday drink, maybe dinner.

That's what friends did.

She paused in the door of his office, surprised by what she saw.

Peter was sitting on his small couch, shirt off as he tried to treat several nasty scrapes on his elbows. His turn shared was tossed on the small table before him and replacement rested beside him as he struggled to clean the wounds.

"Want a hand with that?" she asked, stepping into the room and moving to take a seat on the coffee table.

He seemed surprised and grateful for her presence. "Thanks," he replied, handing over the antibiotic swab. "My shoulder's acting up on me."

Unconsciously, Megan's eyes ticked to the side, noting the heavy scarring on his shoulder. The long cuts were clearly from attempts to repair the damage done by a bullet, as the entry wound itself haven't left much damage. Internally was another story altogether and she wondered what the exit looked like, but pushed that thought aside to concentrate on the task at hand.

Dabbing swabbed the worst scrapes, she shook her head. "You should have said something earlier," she told him, then quirked a smile. "There are plenty of doctors around here."

He chuckled and gave her a little grin. "Most people around here aren't used to their patients having a pulse."

As she attached a gauze pad to his skin with surgical tape, she laughed. "True enough, but next time come to me."

She emphasized her point with a poke to his chest, right in the center of the blonde hair that dusted across his pectorals. The doctor in her brain assessed his physique, firm and healthy without being overly cut, broad and sturdy instead of lean and wiry.

Strictly feminine part of her brain piped up to add it's own opinion that Peter was just plain hot, though she already knew that. The man wore his clothes well.

Now she just had a better idea of what he looked like half out of said clothes.

Trying to act like she was not having such thoughts, Megan moved to tend his bad arm, slipping her hand under his bicep to support him as she cleaned the elbow. He bit back a grunt discomfort and she finished up as quickly as she could.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to grab a pre-Thanksgiving drink, but I think you should go home and ice that shoulder," she said, watching as he raised a hand to the offending joint and rubbed it in an annoyed manner.

In a very real way Peter's injured shoulder mirrored her paresthesia. The randomly occurring paralysis in her hands had ended her career as a surgeon and his limited range of motion made continuing his career as a detective impossible. People from themselves working in the medical examiners office, a place where they could continue to use their skills, just in a different way.

They made a very good team.

"I wouldn't mind drinks," Peter said, reaching for the small first aid kit beside her and pulling out a tube. Flipping open the cap, he squeezed some of the cream onto his bad shoulder and, with the ease of much practice, closed the tube one-handed before beginning to massage the cream in. "I'll ice it later…then break out my old friend, Mr. Heating Pad."

Megan glanced at the tube, surprised to see Arnica instead of the usual Ben-Gay. Perhaps Peter didn't like the smell. "I'd feel better if you saw to this," she insisted, waving a hand to indicate shoulder. "Wouldn't want you to be all achy over the holiday."

He sighed, then his blue eyes locked on her. "What're you doing tomorrow?" he asked, finishing applying the gel and grabbing his spare shirt, a long sleeved Henley instead of the usual button-down.

Not wanting to make a fuss, Megan replied, "Nothing special."

Peter got his bad arm into the proper sleeve before shrugging the garment over his head. "You're not on call," he said, observant gaze still on her. "Dinner with… anyone?"

"Family's out of town," she replied with a shrug. "But it's not like that's uncommon."

Blinking, he said, "Okay, so have dinner with me. Mom makes enough food to feed an army. Plus, if I bring a friend maybe they'll be polite and not moan that I have been married yet."

Oh, he was good. Making it sound like she'd be doing him a favor by going to dinner with him. Tricky, tricky man.

And, to be honest, she hadn't been looking forward to yet another holiday alone. "Are you sure it wouldn't be an imposition?" she asked and he replied with a bright grin.

"Not at all. Can you be ready by 10:30 AM? I could pick you up."

"Of course," Megan replied, a warm feeling in her chest at the thought of spending the holiday with someone she liked, who actually liked her. Mother was… mother and Lacey was still becoming accustomed to spending time with her, so it would be nice.

Plus, she'd get to meet the people who shaped Peter into the fine man he was today.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're so inclined, feel free to come say hi over at my tumblr [HERE](http://blaineandsamevanderson.tumblr.com/) . Always nice to make fandom and shipping friends!


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